


Shut Your Stupid Mouth

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [53]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Other, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Warlock put their head round the door of the main room to tell Aziraphale that breakfast was ready and realised he was sitting there frozen, staring at his phone
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [53]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 61
Kudos: 1319
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Shut Your Stupid Mouth

Warlock put their head round the door of the main room to tell Aziraphale that breakfast was ready and realised he was sitting there frozen, staring at his phone as it buzzed constantly with new texts. Warlock took one look at the expression on the man's face, then padded quietly across the floor and plucked the phone from his nerveless fingers. They glanced at the screen to see who was hurling so many texts around at this early hour of the day, and on a weekend at that. Seeing it was Professor Gabriel, they tightened their mouth, looking for a moment uncannily like Crowley, and blocked the number.

The sudden silence echoed painfully between the two of them as Warlock handed the phone back. "Come on," they said, breaking it stubbornly. "Breakfast's ready."

Aziraphale squared his shoulders and took a barely shaky breath. "Well," he said, getting to his feet, "it would be a shame to let it go cold." And after another breath, "Thank you."

Warlock just grinned back and led the way.

***

Half an hour later, Crowley was woken by his phone ringing insistently. He turned his head with a snarl that turned into a yawn and snaked one arm out of the tangle of blankets to grab the pest. The movement somehow jangled his leg awake too, and he hissed curses at length. The curses only extended when he squinted at his phone and made out the name of the caller. Gabriel, aka, poop emoji. He glared, turned the phone firmly off, dumped it back on the bedside table beside his dark glasses, and began the wincingly slow process of getting his body moving again.

***

When the students saw Professor Gabriel storming down the corridor towards where Dr Fell and Dr Crowley were walking together, they formed an almost instinctive circle of protection around the pair, blocking Professor Gabriel's path.

Crowley was surprised that they thought enough to include him in the protection, even though he tried not to show it. He rather suspected that it only happened because he was next to Aziraphale, but it was, nevertheless, pleasant to be on the inside of the protection for once rather than the outside.

He saw Aziraphale take courage from the students' protection too just as Gabriel boomed out, "Dr Fell! How lovely to see you. I'm here to have a word with you about-"

"Gabriel." Aziraphale folded his hands. His posture and body language shifted just a little, but the effect made his softness abruptly look like a veil hiding something vastly more dangerous and threatening. "If you're not willing to stay away from us _as you were told to_ , then you're not actually sorry enough to make an apology. Request _denied_."

Crowley's mouth quirked just a little in appreciation at Aziraphale's bastard side becoming more visible. The students drew a collective breath of surprise and tightened their circle.

Gabriel glared, then remembered where he was and tried to look like he was superior. "If you had just answered your phones," he began.

Crowley snatched that moment to step up to Aziraphale's side and bare his teeth. "Are you giving me an excuse?" he asked Professor Gabriel. His tone was icily reasonable, the words bitten out very clearly, and every student who had ever taken a lesson with him turned with a surge of 'Oh shit, Professor Gabriel's in for it now' glee. "You know," Crowley continued, every word picking up a harder edge than the previous one, "how I feel about excuses. I will not. stand. for them."

Fury overrode Gabriel's sense of superiority because this was not the way things were supposed to go. He was supposed to able to make a perfunctory apology, have them say he was forgiven, and that would brush the whole mess out of sight so things could get back to how they were. "Damn you, Crowley!"

"Been there, done that, got the tattoo," Crowley retorted. He offered Aziraphale his arm. "Coming, angel?"

"Of course, dear."


End file.
